


So I Can Breathe Again

by Canaan



Series: Ka!verse [4]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: AU, BDSM, D/s, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Smut, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canaan/pseuds/Canaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days are harder than others--more so when you're immortal.  original!Fourteen/Jack/Rose, but mostly old!Jack/immortal!Rose</p>
            </blockquote>





	So I Can Breathe Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round 1, challenge 2 of Kink Last Author Standing on LJ. The prompt was Dominance/submission. This is not the friendly, approachable kink that I often write; please handle with care. Part of my Ka!verse, but all you need to know to read it stand-alone is that this is my fourteenth Doctor, with immortal!Rose and Jack hundreds of years after CoE.
> 
> Thanks to Chamilet, who caught a typo for me. Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I'm sure the BBC is relieved.

Four hundred years is a long time to live, but when you can't ever die, you learn how to manage. For the last fifty-odd, Rose and Jack have had an agreement. She loves him, and she's happy to take care of him, but he has to ask.

Jack hates asking.

So while Jack begins snapping at her and the Doctor in his unguarded moments, she waits. She waits through his days-long mopes and confused apologies. When the Doctor asks if Jack's not ready yet, she shrugs.

Jack gets himself stupidly killed on Orio VII, too lost in his own head to react quickly when the perimeter alarm sounds. The Doctor rescues his body while Rose minds the pressure readouts and keeps a sharp eye out for want-to-be devils. She hates running into destructive aliens built on the horns-and-hellfire pattern--the brimstone smell never seems to come out of her clothes.

After Jack's revivified and the three of them have run off another pretender to the Ultimate Evil, she finds Jack sitting, freshly-scrubbed, in front of the library's fireplace. His hands shake, and it dawns on Rose that she doesn't _have_ to wait. "Jack," she says softly, perching on the arm of his chair and waiting for him to look at her. His eyes are dark and unhappy, the fine crow's feet at their corners more pronounced than usual. "Now," she says.

Jack blinks. His eyes relax, and he smiles.

***

Jack kneels on a lightly padded mat on the floor, hands clasped on the back of his head and knees spread. The blindfold over his eyes is soft and heavy, and something inside him relaxes into the gift of darkness. "Just like that, Jack," Rose murmurs in his ear. "As long as your arms stay there, I won't do anything you don't want."

Jack shivers. The tenderness in Rose's voice warns him he won't ever be able to keep his arms as they are--and he wants that, wants the failure, wants to know what terrible thing she'll do to him when his arms fall.

He wants all of it, even the parts he doesn't want.

The lash across his back leaves gorgeous lines of sensation, while the tight band restricting his cock and balls creates an ever-more-pressing ache there as his arousal increases. He finds himself squirming, focusing too hard on the orgasm he's not allowed to have, until Rose says, "Count for me, Jack."

When he loses count of the lashes, she stops. "I'm sorry, Rose," he says, mostly honest. He wants to be good for her; but he also wants to know what comes next.

"You're thinking too much," she says, and he bows his head, shivering as something hard and slick teases between the cheeks of his arse. The short, sharp thrusts as she forces it inside him wring gasping shudders from him, pain punctuating whimpers of pleasure till she's got it, and him, exactly where she wants.

The damn thing vibrates. The sudden intense sensation against his prostate makes him yelp, and she chuckles, pleased. He grits his teeth and never knows she's moved until a tiny, probing lick along the slit of his cock gives him just enough time to anticipate what's coming with a hungry sort of dread.

It's beautifully inescapable. Each swipe of her tongue makes his hips jerk, shifting the thing trapped inside him in unpredictable ways. His balls ache fiercely, and the sensation as she drags a fingernail across them is so intense he shouts and grabs blindly for her hand.

He wants to tell her he's sorry, but all that comes out is, "No, please, no. No. No--"

"Yes," Rose says.

***

Rose binds Jack spreadeagled on the bed. "Pleasure or pain?" she asks, as if that's the point. The point is to get Jack out of his head, to help him feel safe, to take him so deep into his body that he can't remember how to speak, or think, or do anything but exactly what she asks of him.

He doesn't answer, which tells her she's on the right track.

She sits over him for a while, taking her pleasure from his tongue and watching the tension drain out of his face. "That's good, that's good, Jack," she gasps eventually, sliding to one side and crawling down to kneel by his hips.

He's been so close to the edge for so long, she grasps the end of his cock and holds her thumb over the slit as she pulls the vibrator out. He shudders but doesn't come, which is almost a shame. "Jack," she whispers, "when I take off the ring, I want you to come." She doesn't wait for an answer, just unsnaps the device and waits to see if he can.

He does, writhing and gasping short, breathless screams as pleasure struggles for the surface of his skin and finds itself stopped there without release because she still has him blocked. She waits till he settles, orgasm past but cock still hard, before she starts to stroke him.

The screams are neither short nor breathless as her unrelenting touch sends waves of pain through his too-sensitive flesh. Looking up at his face, she finds the blindfold damp with tears, and a warm glow that has nothing to to with sex suffuses her as she realizes it's finally enough.

This time, when release overtakes him, she lets him have it.

She curls up beside him with her head on his chest, watching his face and stroking his skin while the sobs subside. "That's right, Jack. That's all right. There's no rush." She doesn't move, doesn't take her hands off him, just marvels as he relaxes under her touch, easier in his skin than he's been in months. "How's that, then?" she asks softly.

The smile touching his lips makes her breath catch, because she put it there. "Perfect," he says. "Thank you."


End file.
